Dreams Bordering Nightmares
by Paradisiacal
Summary: What if Numair was the one pushing for him and Daine to take their relationship further? Numair's POV, set before RotG. Please read and review. Thank you to A Quite Chaos for being my beta, again.


_So there I was, trying to sleep, when I began to play the "what if" game. It started out innocently enough, but soon I was thinking dark thoughts. "What if Numair was the one pushing for him and Daine to sleep together?" Soon this became, "what if he pushed Daine farther than she was ready to go?" One thing lead to another, and next thing you know I'm thinking "What if he secretly wanted to push her but suppressed it, and because of suppressing it he had dreams about it that he thought were more like nightmares because he horrified himself?" So there you have it: that is why I wrote this piece. _

_While reading, please keep in mind that this is, in fact, only a dream. No one was harmed in the writing of this fic._

_*NEW* I did a bit of editing so that Numair was no longer kissing Daine's moth. Woops._

**Disclaimer: **Daine and Numair aren't mine, only the twisted situation I have put them in (and I'm not even sure I want ownership for that).

"Numair?"

It was Daine. Barefoot, she padded through the dark of his study to rest in the doorway of his bedchamber. She leaned one hip out against the wall, looking in at him groggily sitting up in bed.

Normally, Numair would have answered her immediately, but his attention was caught by the fall of fabric over her hip. The cotton was so sheer, he swore he could see right through it, through to her milky skin. Would it feel as soft under his fingers as he'd imagined? Would he find out?

He shook his head, trying to clear both thoughts and sleep from his mind. He'd never been a morning person – especially not at two hours past midnight.

"What is it, magelet?"

"I couldn't sleep. I wanted company." She looked down, tucking her cheek against her shoulder. Numair saw the pink flush of her skin before her curls tumbled down to hide her face.

_How far down does that blush go?_ he wondered. _How much of her skin glows when she thinks of me?_

Numair lifted his covers, climbing out of bed. He was in only breeches, but no matter – he'd seen Diane in far less. Has she seen this much of him? He couldn't remember.

He crossed the room and lay a hand on Daine's shoulder, drawing her in from the doorway. Heat radiated from her skin, and Numair forgot what he'd been meaning to ask. He stood looking down to where her curls parted, revealing her neck. The chain holding the Badger's claw hung there, as always. How he'd like to slip his fingers under that chain, trace his way around, silde down, over her collarbone…

At last she whispered, "Numair? Is it all right that I came here?"

"Of course," he answered, far too quickly for innocence. "What's kept you awake?"

"I was cold… and lonely."

The last words were barely more than a sigh; it felt as if she'd breathed her confession against his skin, as if her lips had brushed against him as she'd admitted to craving his company. His breath hitched in his throat, releasing a heat that curled through his belly.

He lifted the curls covering her face, winding his fingers into her hair, resting his hand on the back of her neck. Her eyes flickered up to meet his, a foot above hers, but only for a moment. For Numair, it was invitation enough. He bent down, claiming her mouth in a hungry kiss. She held completely still, shocked. Numair was slightly ashamed to find that her reluctance drove him on. She loved him, she had to.

He pressed his lips harder against hers until her mouth parted with a gasp. He thought she was kissing him back until she began to push against him. Her hands were against his bare chest; unless she shifted, he was stronger than her. All the same, he raised his head, ending the kiss. He tried to meet her eye, but she wouldn't look up. He pulled her head in so her cheek rested on his chest, between her hands. He pressed his lips into her hair, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Please, magelet, forgive me," he crooned. "I've loved you for so long. I'm so good to you, Diane; can't you love me back?"

Her shallow breaths stirred the fine, black hair against her lips. He savoured the moment before she spoke, savoured the feeling of possessing her completely.

"I do love you, Numair."

Hearing those words, the heat in the pit of his stomach flared up, consuming him. He released her soft curls, trailing his hand over her shoulders. When he slid the nightgown down her shoulders, tucked his fingers under the collar, she stiffened but did not pull away.

"Please," he breathed, "let me love you."

He felt her sigh, felt her soften. He undid the tie at her neck, and, unbearably slowly, the cotton fell away and pooled at her feet.

Diane was embarrassed. She stepped out of the fabric, turned her back to him. He should stop, knew he shouldn't be pushing her like this, but he couldn't control his growing desire. She loved him, too; she'd said so. Did it matter if he had control?

He wrapped his arms around her waist, drew her against him. One breath, one kiss at a time, he covered Daine's back and shoulders. He could feel her breathing speed up, but was she ready? He was.

She twisted around in his arms, laying her cheek against his chest again. "I'm scared."

"Don't be. Please, don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." He knew he would, but he wouldn't mean to. It wouldn't hurt her to love him, not as much as it would hurt Numair to stop, to reign in his desire. He'd done it a thousand times before -- he would not hold it in check tonight.

There was nothing soothing about Numair's hands as he ran them down her back, up her sides, over her body. He was gentle, but not soothing. Slowly, shyly, Daine pressed against him, trying to get closer.

Fumbling only briefly, Numair drew off his breeches, kissing Daine all the while. She seemed hesitant when he led her to his bed, but he couldn't tell if there was fear in her eyes -- she wouldn't look at him.

He laid her down, lowered himself over her. Even against his own, he'd never seen skin so pale as hers looked now. He paused, his eyes running along her body. Such soft curves, finally they could be his, _would_ be his.

Numair paused only a second longer to brush his lips against her ear, whispering "please" as he took her at last.

Daine's soft whimpers disappeared behind the sound of Numair's panted breaths. Each inhalation came quicker, each exhale a small promise of pleasure. He could barely breathe. Daine pressed her face into the crook of his neck, timidly pressing her lips against his skin.

"I love you, Numair," she said. The quiet noises she was making began to sound far more like moans than whimpers.

Numair woke suddenly, his skin damp against his sheets. Groaning, he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't face himself. It would never be that way. He wouldn't tell her he loved her for exactly that reason: he would never take advantage of her.

A thought surfaced from deep inside the part of his mind where shame could not reach: _But she said she loved you. She said yes._

_In a dream she said she loved me!_ he screamed at himself. _A dream where I took advantage of her, because I desired her and couldn't restrain myself! I never truly asked her!_

He was sickeningly aware of his pulse thundering in his ears, his blood racing under his skin. He could hear Daine's tentative moans still, almost as if she'd truly lain beneath him --

as if he'd truly been a monster.

"Please," he'd whispered.

_Please._


End file.
